Leaving Mysore...

I think anyone (with a few notable exceptions) will tell you Mysore is hard to leave. In the two and a half months I've lived here, I've seen a lot of people go, and it's usually the same. They have their last coconut, their last day at the pool, their last meal at their favorite place, and they talk about their plan to come back. Almost no one leaves Mysore without a return plan. "I'll be back next year" "I'm coming back in August" "I'm just going to Goa for a few weeks" "I'm only leaving to renew my tourist visa" and so on. It's in the promise to come back that we can bear leaving. We say "see you later", not "good bye", and if that's optomisticly niave it feels true anyway. Ask anyone who's lived in Mysore they'll tell you the same.
But after over two months it's time to go. I feel like by staying in Mysore I've just been hanging a foot in India's waters, getting used to the temperature, so now it's time to take the full plunge. Time to jump in the River. It's time for planes trains and automobiles, going going going, stick it in high gear cause I'm on the MOVE here! Tomorrow morning I'm jumping in a taxi to Bangalore Airport and flying, swoooosh, to Delhi. Aaand then I am not sure what I'll do. There's the thought of staying in Delhi and looking for a second hand telephoto lense, there's the notion of going down to Agra to see the splendiferous Taj Mahal, or there's the idea that I'll just rip it straight to the Himalaya the minute I get off the plane. We'll see what feels right when I get on the ground.
So folks, there's a good chance once I get on the go the blog posts will drop of for a spell. Email replies will be far less frequent. Letters will arrive slightly more battered. Since I've come to India it has been wonderful to have to opportunity to send and recieve some emails from some folks I hadn't heard from in a long time, and to hold on to some of you even over a distance. It's been great to communicate so much from so far. But I think it's time for me to turn inward and practice silence for a while. One big reason I came to India was to probe deeper into myself, into my core, and sometimes by being very social and outgoing I'm distracting myself from that journey. The idea is not to cut communication, but to learn to communicate myself more honestly.
Anyways, on to the pictures. My last ten days or so in Mysore have been really nice, relaxing days. I did some last shopping in the Deveraja Market, hung out at the pool plenty, took some relaxing countryside drives, and spent a lot of time with friends here. Enjoy your last look at Mysore!

Deveraja Market, full of...

Fruit,


Flowers,


Dye,


Garlands,


Jaggery (raw sugar)


Insense and oils


Some friends around Mysore:

This eccentric Parisian Stan is very kind and very funny. And "eccentric" is not strong enough a word.


"Party at the moon tower" -- Brad from Canada.


This kid, Barnaba from Poland, wore me out playing in the pool. He's really fun and he never quite understood I don't speak Polish. Maybe I speak Polish after all?


Maddie and Danielle riding on the infamous scooter personality Cal. You can tell by their expressions (and the scooter) that they are bad ass to the core. Neither of them were shy about dancing and we had a lot of fun nights boogying at Clug High Octaine.


The following pictures were all taken one morning on a drive out some country roads from Mysore. I was so happy to take my friend Robyn with me on the back of my motorcycle. It is a foolish dream of mine that a motorcycle, a beautiful woman, and an open road is a formula for happiness. It was.


This is the banks of a river where countless laundries have been done.


And the shaded bridge where we watched from.


We wandered in the village and this family of generations kindly composed themselves on their doorstep.




It's not hard for me to understand why Gandhi idealized the village life. These people seemed perfect: beautiful and happy with the morning.



A few kilometers down the road were maybe a hundred small deserted houses. We peaked inside and there were no signs of inhabitance for a long time. We imagined stories of hardship that left all these houses cursed and forbidden, but we'll never know the truth.


Weird rubbery flowers.


I passed on three of my books to Robyn, and she read them all very quickly and then we got to talk about them over tea. This is her on a bridge by the KRS Dam.


The KRS Dam holds back the biggest stash of water I've seen in India, a really massive lake. I think it's Mysore's water supply, and is chanelled in by aquaducts.


Bright yellow flower petals, fallen from the trees, litter the steps approaching a small temple.


I like pictures of flowers. It's a weakness, I admit, or perhaps I post them for Mom.


One of the last things I did in Mysore was have some clothes tailored for me. I went to the shops downtown and bought fabric, and then brought them to Lokesh at Krishna Tailor who makes them to my measure. He's good. Here I am modeling the so soft and so bright silk (SILK!) pajamas I had made.


And perhaps one of the coolest things Lokesh did was make this bag in about two minutes. I couldn't resist posting this picture; why not eh?

All the best to everyone, much love. See you later Mysore! Ethan